Most people I know have thought I was pretty brave planning to take my kids (ages 5 and 12) backpacking around Morocco. I don't consider it brave. I LOVE travelling, seeing new places, new faces, different cultures and want my children to experience different countries and cultures too. As a single mum, if I don't take them, no one else will.

My daughter has wanted to travel around Morocco since she was 5 and first saw my photo's of a previous trip. I promised her that 'one day' we would go together. A promise is a promise, so when I asked her where she fancied going this summer and the answer was Morocco, I jumped at the opportunity.

Having recently moved back to England from Canada and not having had a holiday for years, it seemed the ideal opportunity for a family adventure! We spent months planning and preparing, poring over guide books and maps and tossing around ideas of where we wanted to go and what we wanted to do. Finally the big day arrived. That 'one day' is now today!!

I'm now wondering just what the hell I was thinking - and we're only 20 minutes into a three hour flight!! Flinn is driving me completely and utterly bats - with a capital C U and B!! I dare not look around at the other passengers on this flight. The pilot and cabin crew are great. My son is the little horror from hell.

"Are we there yet?" he yells, "Are we still in England?" "Did we get to Morocco yet" "I'm bored" "Can I have..." and again - "Are we there yet?" I am going to scream!! Rather loudly.

Thank heavens for small mercies - we are sat nowhere near a door otherwise I may just have to resort to throwing myself - or him out of it! Mental note for future flights - medicate myself ... or him ... or even both of us!!

Imogen has the right idea - she had the forethought to bring her mp3 player. Now as much as I spend time asking her to put her mp3 down, stop texting her friends, to please stop hibernating in her room doing teen stuff and get downstairs 'right now' and socialise with your family as it's 3 weeks since we last saw you, I have to admit that right now, I'd like to be in her shoes.

In fact ........ "Imogen sweetheart, could I borrow your mp3 for 5 minutes peace and quiet? PLEASE - I'm on my metaphorical knees (since we all know how little knee space there really is on a flight!) - AND begging. Please, PLEASE, PLEASE?

She looks at me in complete and utter horror before saying "Are you completely and utterly insane? (I will be if this continues much longer) 5 minutes? and I'm supposed to do what in that 5 minutes? He is driving me NUTS. If I thought I could find somewhere to stash the body, it would be a done deal!! Baby brothers - errgh. Your on your own mother dear!!"

Sigh - my ever dramatic daughter. Amusing as usual. She should be on the stage. Today however, she is quite right. Baby bro is being a complete and utter pain in the ass. There is unfortunately, only one option left. I heave and shudder at the thought ...... the toilets.

Oh god! Is 5 minutes peace and quiet worth locking myself into a monkey cage, that has been utilised by 200 people and reeks of pee? How long can I drag out a 'bathroom visit' before p....ing off all the other passengers? Could I justifiably lock Flinn in there for 5 minutes because Flinn "you DO need the toilet." These are the deep and meaningful questions I ask myself.

Maybe I should just order a glass of wine or three, chill out and have done with it! If not less irritating, perhaps after three glasses of wine I'd care less!

One flight from hell later and coming in to land at Marrakesch, Imogen looks out the window and deigns to communicate with me at last; "Ummm, mum. You said this country was primitive in areas, but you didn't tell me everyone lives in mud huts."

"They don't" I replied.

"Well, have you looked out the window yet? Its miles and miles of little mud huts."

"Mmmm, well don't you worry. We're booked into a nice Riad" I told her.

"Yes, but where exactly is the Riad?" she asked.

Waving vaguely out the window to my left, I spotted a red and white hut by the runway. "See that little red and white hut over there" I said. "Thats our hotel - Riad Azahara. It's unique and authentic"

"Unique? Authentic she screeched at me. Its a flaming mud hut by the runway. I suppose that puddle by the corner of it, is the swimming pool?"

"Looks that way" I told her.

"I can't believe it, she screeched. That mud hut? Do we have to sleep on the floor? I can't believe you're doing this to me"

About to answer, she finally noticed my grin and snigger. "Mother" she yelled. "That was so mean. You had me going there! I believed you!!"

I couldn't resist. An easy wind up is Imogen at times!!

I promised Flinn that he could write or dictate the first 'proper' entry in our family travel diary, so here goes. According to Flinn;

"We flyed to Morocco airport, then mama showed our passports to the man at the airport, then haggled with a taxi man to take us to town. We went in a taxi and on the way, we saw horsies, donkey's, people driving like loonies and men, ladies, babies and chickens on scooters!

After the taxi dropped us off, we bartered with an old guy with a big cart, to carry our gear and show us where our hotel was. We had to walk very far - all the way through the souks and medina. Then we crossed Djemma El Fna. It was CRAZY!! It was loud and noisy with men drumming and playing 'snake charmers' music. We saw a tortoise in a bird cage, a chameleon on a mans back and tiny kitty cats. AT LAST we got to our hotel after walking MILES and MILES and MILES through little streets. We had an argument with the guy at the hotel who said we had to pay our money and go to another hotel. Mama wasn't happy and refused. I said "We don't have to if we don't want to." Then we had to walk MILES MORE to another hotel.

The lady at the hotel showed us our room, mama plonked the bags down and we went out for something to eat and drink. I had cheese and ham crepes and a lemon fanta. Imogen had lemon fanta too and a pizza. She said she wasn't hungry but gobbled it all down in two minutes! Mama had a tuna sandwich - not very moroccan she said, and surprise, surprise, her usual tonic water. I liked the water fountain at the food place and little settees and lanterns and snuggled up on the settee and cuddled mama.

Mama said I walked very far without whinging and whining and she was very impressed. She said "I'm very impressed with you walking so far Flinn without whinging and whining. Well done. What a good boy. I am proud of you".

We gobbled up our food and went to Djemma El Fna using the little map Joella the hotel lady 'drawed' us; left and right, left and right, left and right and around the corner we went! We saw donkeys again at Djemma El Fna and horsies. We nearly got 'runned' over by them and they smelled - pooey, PONG!! I hated that smell and so did mama and Imogen. I was worried mama would be sick smelling them.

We stood and had a fresh squeezed orange juice while we figured out what to do - it was nice air in the sky by the juice stand, not stinky horsey air! I spotted snake charmers and touched a snake. Mama was scared but got a good photo of them. We saw men and boys selling wooden snakes and they kept waggling them under mamas nose. She wasn't impressed and said La Shokrun - No thankyou.

We saw the water seller wearing a very funny hat and a long red cloak - I called him funky hat boy! We saw men with monkeys -mama said 'Flinn your a little monkey, maybe I'll get money for you if you perform!

Djemma El Fna was all crazy, NUTS!! We were all tired so we went back to our Riad and went to sleep!